the springtime of youth
by mirajens
Summary: How did one tell a teenage boy she was having her first period?


**note** : sue me, I made both Laxus and Mirajane 13 in this fic. And I totally coined the title from Gai and Lee who I love with all my heart.

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 **the springtime of youth**

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Normal Wednesday mornings this summer went exactly like this: Makarov, Laxus and Mirajane seated around the breakfast nook, sharing a plate of sloppy bacon, dry cereal and orange juice. Makarov usually left the processed meat and wheat frost to the young'uns and sipped on sweet coffee while he half read his paper and half listened to the drone of the morning news shows from the outdated box TV in the kitchen. The kids argued. They always did, God help him. Laxus and Mirajane never found anything to agree on even if it was the color of grass or the time of day and it was days like this —hot, humid, boring— when they were twice as irritable. Frankly, Makarov had better things to do than listen to a heated debate about Drake from _Degrassi_ from two teenagers but he'd been trying to spend more time with his grandson since his father dumped him to work abroad.

The poor kid was in rough shape after the abandonment but the summer days were long and they promised to beat aggression out of him. Moving to Magnolia had been good for the boy. The people here were of a kinder water and activity was abundant enough to keep him entertained. At least Laxus had stopped picking on the younger kids now and he was doing better at school. Progress with him was slow but Makarov could see the boy mellowing out.

And Mirajane. Sweet Mirajane who was as tempestuous and rude as a gangster except Makarov had never been the receiving end of it. The girl was nothing but polite to him, even remembering to ask him for chores whenever she was over the Dreyar house. And this summer, she was more so. Her Wednesday mornings (actually, all her weekday mornings) were usually vacant and she had nothing better to do than pester the neighbor boy until she had to pick up her siblings from summer school at noon. Their parents came home a few hours after that. Until then, Laxus had to suffer the pretty bully who was at least competent at Super Mario Sunshine.

The whole morning, she had a gray cast to her skin and looked quite miserable. Twice, she complained about a weird, passing pain. Makarov thought nothing of it; to engrossed in his unengaging newspaper. Neither him or Laxus watched Mirajane bend over her Cheerios or the sorry state of her expression when she pushed away from the table and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

Laxus hammered away at the controls of his handheld device. He knew she'd been under the weather all morning but didn't care enough to ask what thematter was. Mirajane was always such a moody little brat. But thirty minutes without the shrill voice of Mirajane Strauss yapping criticism of his technique made him alert of her prolonged absence.

"What's taking her so long?" Makarov heard his grandson gripe, the picture of an angsty prepubescent as he scowled at her empty seat.

The old man grunted, not particularly interested. "Go check on her if you're so lonely."

"I'm not—" Makarov heard the legs of a chair scrape against tile, then Laxus' scoff. "Whatever."

Laxus did just what his grandfather asked, making the annoying trek up the staircase (Mirajane _always_ used the cleaner and less used guest bathroom whenever she came over) to seek Mira out. He came to a stop in front of the guest bathroom and knocked. "Oy, Mira, you in there?"

"Go away, Laxus." her voice sounded broken and tired, instantly putting Laxus on alert.

"Open the door. What's wrong with you?"

She did, with heavy reluctance. It took a while for her to open the door just enough for her face to be visible. Her skin looked pale and clammy which prompted no small amount of worry. "Laxus, I'm bleeding."

The boy gasped quite dramatically as visions of injury and death swirled in his over-imaginative mind. A bellow for his grandfather was rising on his throat when Mirajane spoke up. "Don't panic. It doesn't hurt,"

"Let me see!" Laxus insisted, palms flat on the door ready to push his way in but Mirajane swat at his hands.

"No!" she cried, her shoulder pressing harder against the door. "You're not allowed! It's not— you can't—!" words failed her as she struggled for a delicate way of telling Laxus exactly what was going on. How did one tell a teenage boy she was having her first period?

The scowl on Laxus's face was impressive. "If you don't let me see, you're gonna bleed to death and I'm gonna tell gramps."

Mirajane blushed at the thought of Laxus seeing the mess of her dress or Makarov finding out. But at this point, she had nothing to work with seeing that this was an all-male household. "You idiot, stop freaking out. I don't need a doctor, you dummy. I know what to do but I need to go home."

Before Laxus could insist on being allowed in any longer, A small figure appeared at the end of the hall. "What is all this ruckus?" Makarov called out as he approached. When Mirajane saw him, she gave a small yelp before shutting the door again. Laxus went back to pounding his palm against the wood, thinking her to be in danger.

When his efforts turned up futile, he faced his grandfather. "Gramps, Mira's wounded but she won't let me see! She said she's bleeding!"

The older man's wrinkled face turned solemn. He knew what this was about. The girl looked so pale the whole morning and if he guessed right with the stomach aches then their guest was on her cycle. He neared the door so the girl behind it could hear him. "Mirajane, am I correct in assuming it is that time of month?"

For a while, she didn't speak but when she did, her voice was small. "Yes. I know what to do, I just need to go home."

Makarov nodded, more to himself than anyone. "Laxus will lend you something to change in and he can see you home."

Her tone was still shy and embarrassed when she replied, "Thank you. I'm sorry for the trouble."

To Laxus, Makarov turned. "Go find Mirajane some clothes. Dark ones, and make sure they're clean."

Laxus ran to obey, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor, sending nerve-wracking thuds through the house. His room was always tidy. Gramps set store on a spiffy home, something Laxus didn't expect seeing that the old man has been without a wife for so long and from Laxus' limited experience (i.e.: his father), men were not genetically constructed to be tidy. This summer he was learning, quite painfully, the value of cleanliness and orderliness.

He pawed through the haphazard stacks of clothing in his dresser. From his lessons of laundry (separating articles from clean and dirty and the whole washing process), he was sure any shirt not in his laundry basket was clean but instinct had him pressing the cotton shirt to his face and inhaling to distinguish any use. When he was satisfied that it was clean, he grabbed black basketball shorts and figured they would suffice.

His grandfather stood ways away from the bathroom door and interceded the boy before he could say anything less than pleasant. "Give her the clothes through the door and stop asking her to let you in, you hear me? Leave the girl alone. You can talk to her before dinner when her parents are home."

"What's wrong, Gramps? Why is she bleeding?" Laxus asked, still not quite sure why everyone was okay with this.

Makarov sighed and he wondered if Catholic schools intentionally left menstrual cycles out along with sex ed or if Laxus just didn't pay attention when it was discussed. "Mirajane is on her period. It's nothing to be alarmed about. It is a normal occurrence in women. And, boy, if you even think about acting disgusted, you're in for a world of hurt. Now go give her those clothes and take her home I'll call her mother."

Laxus' knocking was gentler this time. "Hey, I have some clothes. I won't try to come in, I promise."

Mirajane peeked out of the door and reached a hand out for the clothes. "Thank you. I'll be right out."

Laxus didn't think he'd ever seen her look so gentle.

When Mirajane dressed in dark clothes that dwarfed her, she and Laxus made out for her home just three houses down the street. The only time they spoke was when Laxus asked if she was hurting and when she said no.

When they reached the Strauss house, Laxus hesitated at the door. "Do you want me to leave? Or I can go make you some tea or whatever. Until your ma comes home," He felt quite foolish struggling for words to say to her. Back in his old town, his friends were all boys and all were too young to discuss anything about girls except that they were annoying and didn't play basketball really well.

Mirajane smiled, weak-looking and shy. "Yeah, that would be nice. I have to go shower but you can set up a movie." She twisted her key into the door and locked it again once they were inside. She turned to him with a faux stern look. "No more Transformers. I swear if we watch that again I will kick you out."

Laxus grinned and said nothing, only strolling inside the living room to find the box set of Transformers. Mirajane rolled her eyes before leaving for her room. Boys were just so silly.

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 **note:** bahhhh im no good at writing fluff but I'm mildly okay with this one. This was supposed to be my submission for last year's Miraxus Week's childhood prompt but you know me and my procrastination. Anyway. I hope this was okay. I've been coming up with a shit ton of Miraxus AUs and I hope they're not gonna be too crack-y or whatever.

Also, I'm curious if there are any pairings anyone would like to see more? I'm terribly narrow-minded with ships and I really want to write for other ships but I'm not having any ideas.


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